


The Sum of a Lasting Lore

by Memory_Keeper



Category: The X-Files RPF
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-15
Updated: 2011-08-15
Packaged: 2017-10-22 15:32:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,344
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/239574
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Memory_Keeper/pseuds/Memory_Keeper
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He has known her for eighteen years now, and for this he feels a rush of gratitude. She is one thing in his life that he hasn’t dropped.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Sum of a Lasting Lore

**Author's Note:**

> Don't sue. It's only make-believe.
> 
> Rating: R (language, sex)  
> Pairing/Characters: Gillian Anderson, David Duchovny  
> Prompt: DD/GA reunion at the IBG charity event
> 
> Author's Notes:  
> After seeing them together at the IBG event, I had to get this out of my system! For the purposes of this story, I fudged the NYC-London time zones. The title is taken from Dorothy Parker’s “Ballade of a Great Weariness.”
> 
> This is my first RPF-- please let me know what you think! Thanks.

From the startled look on her face, he realizes he lost more weight than he initially thought. She arrived in L.A. three days ago—they spoke on the phone, did some texting—but he was busy with the filming of Californication and hadn’t gotten the chance to see her until today, two hours before the IBG event was about to start.

She looks good, great actually. The last time he saw her—an unexpected surprise—was at his play’s opening night in New York almost a year ago. Battling an early bout of the flu, after he got over the shock, he remembers his elation and awkwardness at spotting her beaming face in the darkened audience, a few seats from a composed Tea. In between scenes and coughs, he wondered what she thought about his acting, if she privately agreed with him that he couldn’t do theatre to save his life. At the after party the first thing she said was, with a cheeky grin, “Isn’t live acting fucking terrifying?”

 

She hugs and kisses him hello, her blond head bumping his stubbled chin. “Do I look like shit,” he rumbles in her ear, squeezing her waist, making her laugh and shake her head. “You look good to me,” she protests, and he sees she means it.

 

He was standing at the window of his hotel room in downtown Manhattan, watching the yellow cabs crawling on the avenue twenty-two stories below and ant-sized New Yorkers walking briskly on the sidewalk. This was his home and he loved it, but tonight the brightly-lit skyscrapers crowded too close, the usual city noises too loud. His mind suddenly flashed to an image of Vancouver’s lush, silent forests blanketed in snow and before he knew it, he had his Blackberry in hand and a lump in his throat.

“Yes, hello.” She sounded distracted.

“Hey, it’s me.” He forced a smile into his voice. “Is this a bad time?”

He had surprised her, pleasantly so. “David! No, no, just feeding the little people some breakfast. How are you?”

“Been better.” His gaze drifted to the glowing screen of his Macbook sitting on the table behind him. His wife’s name was trending on Yahoo. He reached over and shut the screen. He sighed. “I—“

There was a loud thunk in the background, followed by an indignant howl. “MUM! HE DID IT AGAIN!”

“Sorry—hold on a sec.” In that curious British accent that still surprised him sometimes, she yelled,” I swear to God, Oscar, if you push your brother off that chair one more time, you’re going to lose another finger!”

He chuckled. “Is that—“

“Yeah. Sorry, you were saying?”

Despite his miserable state, he noted once again her reluctance to talk about him. Felix. He wondered sometimes. He had even done the math one night. But he could never bring himself to ask.

 

They had been together a handful of times, the last one during the filming of the second movie. It was like a second honeymoon, that happiness—bordering on giddiness— at being with each other again after so long. It felt like coming home. They couldn’t help slipping a few times during the press junket.

“We couldn’t keep our hands off each other,” he joked at one interview, then winced inwardly.

 

The first time was after the wrap party of an early season of the series, back when she was still round-faced with a smattering of freckles across her nose. He had a little too much to drink; the tips of his ears felt hot. He had spent most of the night wrapped around his co-star, whispering and flirting with her, oblivious to the glances of Chris and the crew.

He wasn’t stupid. He knew she had a crush on him, and while he liked her, was even fond of her (on his good days), she wasn’t really his type. But it was another bitterly cold evening in Vancouver and he was fucking lonely and depressed that he went on and invited her to his duplex after the party. He wasn’t expecting the sex to be great, but it was fantastic. And even before he collapsed beside her in bed, spent and panting, he already knew this wasn’t going to be a one-time thing.

Sure enough, before principal filming of the season opener was done, they found themselves back in his unmade bed, her freckled cheeks flushed, watery afternoon light falling on her short auburn hair fanned out on the cool pillows as he slid into her warm, tight, welcoming heat.

“What are we doing, David?” she whispered, even as she arched her hips to meet his.

He barked out a laugh, gritted his teeth. She felt so goddamned good. “If you have to ask then I’m not doing it right.”

“I love you,” she said quietly, her small, strong hands clutching his shoulders.

His head snapped up to meet her wide, wet eyes. He said nothing, thrusting into her faster and harder, watching as pleasure overtook her, her blue eyes flickering shut as she came, groaning. When she opened them again, he bent and kissed her, long and gentle.

 

Over the years, his mother always asked him, “When are you going to finish your doctorate thesis?” Underneath her words was the real unspoken question: “When are you going to finish something important you started, for once in your life?” He had dropped out of post-graduate school, his marriage, The X-Files.

By the time he walked away from the series, it eight years was too late. He was sick of the show, the unforgiving schedule, the people, the character. He would be marked as Fox fucking Mulder for the rest of his life. But on the last day of filming the last scene of them as Mulder and Scully (with the baby), the enormity of this final moment struck him squarely where it hurt. He was about to say goodbye to this person who had been the biggest part of his life for the past eight years.

They stayed in each other’s arms long after Kim Manners yelled cut and called it a wrap, feeling her tears soak through his shirt. It was too late. He held her close, his own eyes wet, and in that silent room, he whispered that he loved her. Then he left, his heart heavy that it was over, but not depressed, because after all, he had a bright future ahead of him in Hollywood.

 

“So what are you gonna ask me? You brought note cards?” he asks incredulously, then promptly tries to sneak a peek. “What’s that about Californication?”

She tucks the typewritten note cards away. “Well, seeing as how you’ve never invited me—” she pouts.

He steps closer to her and murmurs, “Are you sure that’s a wise idea? You and me doing a sex scene for the whole world to see?”

“I didn’t know your show was that popular, David.”

He can’t imagine her on Californication. She will always be Scully to him. He feels a strange urge to protect her from his sleazy, womanizing alter ego. She is too good to be reduced to one of Hank Moody’s women.

“Why do you want to be on it, anyway? You’ve never watched it.”

“I have too!” she retorts. “I saw an episode.”

“And what episode would that be?”

She pauses, squints. “I don’t remember. But there was a sex scene.”

“Yeah, that helps.”

 

Her face has lost its roundness and her freckles have faded. There are lines around her eyes and mouth, made prominent when she smiles and laughs, which is often. They have both grown older. He has known her for eighteen years now, and for this he feels a rush of gratitude. She is one thing in his life that he hasn’t dropped.

He asks her if she has plans the next evening, if she would like to have dinner.

Gillian smiles, her laugh lines deepening. “As long as you’re paying.”

The event organizer tells them they’re on. They hear applause, and step out onto the stage.

 


End file.
